Figuring it Out
by mcmusings12
Summary: While working on a cold case involving the death of a marine’s wife, Tony and Tim come to a few realizations. The pairing is Tony/Tim i.e. slash . If you find this offensive, please do not read.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Figuring it Out

**Rating**: PG-13

**Genre**: Slash

**Pairing**: Tony/McGee

**Spoiler**: Mention of scenes from Episode 7x08 "Power Down".

**Summary**: While working on a cold case involving the death of a marine's wife, Tony and Tim come to a few realizations.

**Warnings**: Mention of murder and sexual assault in relation to cold cases.

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.

_Author's Notes: _A continuation to my first NCIS fic "Elevator Bonding" in which Tony was trapped in the elevator with Tim during "Power Down" instead of Ziva.

Chapter One

_Finally_, Tony thought to himself as the electricity came back on.

As soon as the lights flickered on, the sound of people excitedly turning their computers on and typing away could be heard throughout the bullpen.

Tony gleefully scanned through his inbox. He found himself looking over at Gibbs who stared bemusedly at those around him and then pressed the button on his monitor.

_He's probably laughing at the rest of us_. _We're such slaves to our computers and all the techno-gadgets._

Tony had to admit that the last few days without electricity had been trying. He couldn't believe how quickly he had become dependent on things like the internet, e-mail and search engines. It wasn't that long ago that he had relied on good old-fashioned legwork when he was a cop.

Maybe he was getting old. _Ugh_. _Let's pretend I didn't think that_, the voice in Tony's head said.

He cast a sideways glance at Tim and watched him as he enthusiastically attacked his keyboard, no doubt shooting off a dozen e-mails in the time it took him to write one. He always wondered how Tim was so quick and sure when in front of his computer, but fumbled around when using equipment or holding a gun.

Tony paused. That was actually no longer the case. Tim had changed considerably in the five years that he'd been an NCIS field agent. He was much more sure of himself. He was still terrified of Gibbs, but then again, who wasn't? He still occasionally hesitated in the field, but those moments were occurring less and less frequently.

Tony had also begun to notice that he was giving as good as he got from him. Gone were the days of Tim just silently taking whatever Tony dished out. He had to admit, as much as he liked making Tim squirm in the early years, he much preferred the back and forth banter that they shared now.

Tony returned his attention to the monitor, sifting through e-mail while simultaneously slogging through the tremendous amount of paperwork related to their recently closed case. _Damn NSA._

As he mindlessly filled out, for the third time, the vital statistics of Lieutenant Emma Paxton he was distracted by an indistinct grunt from beside him. He looked over to see Tim's furrowed brow and slight frown. Wondering if he was having as much fun with the nonsensical language of government formalities, he was about to crack a joke when Tim looked up.

"How did you know that James Bond was part Scottish?"

He can't stop the laughter that sputtered out.

"_That's_ what you're looking up right now?"

Tim flushed slightly, but nodded.

Tony was about to launch into his movie-fone voiceover explanation when Gibbs' voice cut through the din of clacking keystrokes.

"Is there a reason you're not working on that report? I want it on my desk by end of day today."

Tim and Tony exchanged identical grimaces.

Toggling back to the forms screens Tony managed not to bash his head against the monitor when he saw that he was only on page 7 of 82 of his report. He rubbed his gritty eyes and thought - _it's going to be long day_.

1-1-1-1-1-1-1

Tim had finally, finally finished the ridiculously repetitive report and headed over to the elevators to find Tony already standing there, waiting for the doors to open.

They both paused, staring at the elevator.

"Should we risk it, McGee?"

He laughed. "We survived the first time. I'm sure if it happened again, and please God don't let it happen again, I'm sure we won't kill each other."

They both walked in and Tony started talking about what a relief it was to have that paperwork done and signed over to Gibbs. Tim was not really paying attention as he was distracted by something small located in the corner of the elevator. He stared hard at it until he could make out what it was.

It was a button, _his_ button, the one that had come off as he and Tony fought over his cell phone several days ago. Swallowing a little thickly, he recalled how it felt to have Tony on top of him. He also had a vague memory, which he thought might have been a dream, of Tony gently caressing his backside while he slept.

He tried not to think about it, even as he shifted uncomfortably, and in an effort to hide his arousal, he closed his jacket and shifted his bag.

At the parking garage, the two walked to their parked cars together.

"You know, McGreedy, you could have left some more band-aids in the box!"

"What? Band aids?"

"Where's your had at, McGee? Did you lose so much blood from all of your paper cuts?"

"Hey, _you _were the one that left me to sift through all of those financial records!"

"I didn't leave you. You wanted to go _in my place_. If you really wanted to go, you should have argued with Ziva."

"And risk her fury? Not going to happen."

"Gibbs asked me to run down the lead. I would have still wanted to go out regardless, but the fact of the matter is, you and Ziva should have flipped for it.

Tim tried to find fault in his argument but he came up short. He waited for the usual _I'm right and you're wrong_ gloating from Tony, but it never came.

"I'm waiting."

"For what, McGee?"

"The gloating."

Tony just shrugged. "What would be the point? You're going to keep doing it anyway."

Tony walked away from him towards the car, leaving him standing there his own car keys in hand, at a loss for words.


	2. Chapter 2

Several days had passed and there had, thankfully, been no active cases. It was Friday night, near the end of the day and Tim was getting ready to leave while Tony was still at his desk, looking over some papers.

"Why aren't you getting ready to head home?"

"I will. Just want to finish reading this over."

"It's a cold case, Tony. I'm sure it can wait until Monday."

"I'm getting a tingle."

"There's medication for that."

"Ha ha. Funny, only not so much. Something about this is familiar; I just can't put my finger on it."

Tim put on his coat and picked up his bag. "Good luck. See you Monday."

Tony absentmindedly gave a short wave, once again engrossed with the files in front of him.

Tim started to make his way towards the elevator, waiting for Tony to call him over whining for help. He was nearly to the doors and no sound had come from Tony's direction. He glanced back to see the older agent still staring intently at the papers, diligently making notations on a separate sheet.

Guilt prevented him from going further. Hoping that he wouldn't regret his next move, he retraced his steps.

"What is it about it that's giving you tingles?"

Brow furrowed, Tony answered distractedly as he squinted at the photos, "The pictures of the crime scene, there's something... there's something about how the body is placed that's bothering me."

Blinking, he looked up at Tim. "What are you still doing here, Probie? Go home."

"I just thought I'd lend a hand, if you need it."

"That hard up for something to do on a Friday night?"

"You should talk, staying late. I thought you would be home prepping for your date tomorrow. Doesn't it take you at least 24 hours to get ready?"

"For your information, the date's been postponed. Unlike us, she didn't have to work during the power outage. Her office is playing catch-up this weekend."

"You know, you might find it easier to look at the pictures if you scan them and put them up on the plasma. Here, give them to me. It'll be faster if I do it."

Tony couldn't argue with that and handed over the photos. In no time, Tim had them scanned and up on the screen.

Tony reached for the mouse, but it was quickly taken away by Tim.

"No mouse for you."

Tony just rolled his eyes, looking at the pictures intently.

"So, what are the details about the case?" Tim asked.

"Victim's name was Laura Taylor. Husband, Lance Corporal Peter Taylor, was on a training exercise for two weeks and his wife was home alone. Suspects broke in, stole jewelry, electronics, the usual portable items and killed the wife. Reports indicate that there were at least two based on the volume of items stolen. No prints or DNA found on scene.

"Did she surprise the robbers?"

"No, reports indicate that Laura had settled in for the night when the invasion took place. The television was left on, which was why someone was called to the scene. Neighbours complained about the noise."

"Assault?"

Tony's eyes hardened as he nodded.

"There was evidence of sexual assault." He paused a moment, his mouth formed a grim line. "She was two and a half months pregnant."

Tim expelled a breath in horror and turned back to the screen, staring at the images.

"If she was sexually assaulted, why is she still fully-clothed?"

Tony's eyes widened and he clasped Tim's shoulder, shaking gently.

"That's it, McGee. You're a genius!"

"Wait, what did I say?"

"The clothes. That's what set off the tingle. A few years ago I went out with an old buddy of mine from Baltimore PD and he mentioned this case that he was working on. It was a home invasion and the homeowner was killed. He kept saying what threw him off was that she had all of her clothes on even though she had been raped. Her clothes weren't just thrown on, either. She had been redressed, all of the buttons done up, shirt tucked in, everything down the line. He couldn't figure out why the killer bothered."

Tim took a closer look at the image. "It looks like everything's in place here, too. Are you thinking serial killer?"

"I don't know. A lot of years between the two crimes and I don't think much was stolen in my friend's case. I'm going to shoot him an e-mail and see what's going on with his investigation. He might have already solved it."

Tim half-listened to the clacking of keys behind him as he took one last look at the screen before turning it off and shutting down the computer.

"Thanks, Tim. You really helped me out. That would have driven me crazy all weekend."

"No problem."

The two agents made their way to leave the office

"So, where are you headed now?" Tim asked.

"Home. Going to order some pizza, maybe plug in some Magnum and zone out. It has been a long, long week. You?"

"I was actually thinking of going to a pub, grab a drink and some really greasy food." Tim had no idea what possessed him to say that. His evening's plans had really just consisted of him going home, trying to get some writing done, or, barring that, do some gaming online.

"You were going to go to a bar by yourself?" Tony asked incredulously. "Okay, that is not happening. Let's go. My treat."

"Your… treat? In all of the years I've known you, you have never, ever paid for both of us."

"Tim, Timmy, Timothy, you helped me figure out what was bothering me and now I can have a stress-free weekend. I owe you."

Tony smiled at Tim as he spoke. He noticed that this was a different kind of smile than all of the others he's seen on Tony's face – it was not too big or flashy, not flirty or smirky. It was just open, honest and sincere. Tim couldn't help but smile back.

Tony followed Tim to his car.

"Of course, since I'm buying, that means I get to ride there in your sweet little sports car."

"You're not driving, Tony."

Tony's eyes twinkled mischievously. "We'll see who's holding the car keys at the end of the night. You're a light-weight right? Two drink max?"

Shaking his head, Tim laughed as he unlocked the car and watched Tony slide into the passenger seat. He started the engine and let Tony change the radio station. The car was soon filled with music and the sound of Tony singing along. Putting the car into gear, he cast a sideways glance at Tony, heart thumping a little faster than normal.

He had absolutely no idea what was going on or what he was doing.


	3. Chapter 3

The two agents arrived at the pub that they regularly frequented. The waitress knew them by sight and thought nothing of them coming in together without the rest of the team.

After placing their order they made small talk, both of them aware that although they were comfortable with one another, it was still slightly awkward to be out alone together after hours.

Midway through the meal, they hit their stride.

"Those plot lines were recycled! I've only watched it a handful of times, but I swear it's like the same episode over and over again."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. Magnum, P.I. is a classic. Every episode has its own nuance. I'm going to rise above your mockery, McNoTaste, because I am just a better person."

Later, after having exhausted the merits of the holiday movies being released (Tim's pick had been Invictus, while Tony was all about Ninja Assassinbecause _come on_ it had _ninja_ in the title!), Tony ventured into more personal territory.

"O.K., I have to ask. It's been bugging me for a while. Why are still working for NCIS?"

Tim looked insulted at the question. "Tony, if you're insinuating that I'm not…"

Tony interrupted him to clarify. "It's nothing against your skills as an agent. You've manned up admirably. I probably shouldn't call you Probie anymore, but let's face it, I'm not going to stop anytime soon."

Tim smiled.

"I meant, with the big bucks you made on your books, which thanks again for infringing on our rights and writing all about us _without our consent_…"

"Work of _fiction_, Tony."

"You keep telling yourself that, McGee, and maybe it will actually be true. As I was saying, what with you rolling in the credits why not just write full-time?"

"Yeah, about that," Tim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You see, hmm…"

Tony saw the flush rising from below Tim's collar "Lost it all, huh?"

Tim heard the seriousness of the tone and nodded. "Well, not all of it," he amended. "But a good chunk of it. Crashed hedge fund. It was supposed to be safe."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, the economy was definitely unkind to a lot of people."

Tim raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You lost, too?"

"A little bit. My dad lost more, though." Tony's smile was thin as a blade.

Tim cleared his throat. Tony noticed his discomfort and said, "I probably shouldn't go there. Unresolved daddy issues."

"Seems to be a common theme," Tim muttered.

Now it was Tony's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Et tu?"

"Let's just say my dad's a naval officer and when I was a kid, I would get queasy just looking at a boat."

Tony laughed. "Fair enough."

The meal progressed, their conversation free flowing, and the awkwardness at the beginning of the evening long forgotten. Tony polished off the last of his dessert and Tim nursed his third beer as their talk turned to Tim's first year on the NCIS team.

"You super-glued my fingers to the keyboard."

"It was hilarious."

"My fingers. Super-glue. I lost several layers of skin thank you very much. My fingertips are still desensitized!"

"I couldn't resist."

"Yeah, right. Pick on the geek. Typical jock." The insult lacked the bitterness the Tim of years ago once held.

"Go Buckeyes!"

"What is with you and your alma mater?"

"If I have to explain it, you won't get it. It's a jock thing." Tony said his voice filled with laughter.

"Whatever, Tony. Talk to me when you can explain how a mass spectrometer works. And it's cheating if you ask Abby to write it down for you."

"Fine, point for you. You know, Tim, all the hazing…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. All fun and games, I know."

"It was just, you were so damn nervous all of the time! Kate and I had a lot of fun at your expense. Probably another thing I should apologize for, but again, that's not going to happen anytime soon."

Instead of the laughter or good-natured comeback Tony expected, he watched as Tim slowly and meticulously peeled the label off of his bottle.

"Something on your mind?"

"I miss her."

By the sad look on his face, Tony didn't need to ask whom he was talking about. Several minutes passed as the two men sat silently, their thoughts filled with memories of their lost friend.

Tony stared off into the distance before he confessed in a soft whisper.

"You know, I go back every year. To the roof top where it happened."

He paused, taking a pull of his beer.

"I can still hear the shot fired, see the blood spattering, trying to catch her as she fell. I don't think I'll ever forget it."

Tony stared hard at a point above Tim's head and his jaw tightened convulsively as he fought off the rolling waves of sadness and memory.

In commiseration, Tim reached for the hand that was sitting on the table. He cradled it for a moment, and once both men were no longer blinking back tears, he gently released it.

Neither commented on it.


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't believe I forgot them," Tim muttered to himself as he took the elevator to the Major Case Response Team's floor.

It was Sunday morning and he was supposed to be meeting his sister. He had gotten up late, thinking he had plenty of time to get to the university, but he had forgotten to bring the books she'd asked for with him Friday night before he had left the office.

He got off of the elevator in such a rush that he almost missed Tony who sat working away at his desk.

"What are you doing here?"

Tony looked up startled. "My friend e-mailed back with details about the case. His is still open. I wanted to look over some of the details, compare notes and figure out if I want to bring it up with Gibbs."

"Why don't you just do that tomorrow?"

Tony shrugged. "I had nothing better to do."

"Really? Nothing better to do on a beautiful Sunday morning but to hole up at your desk?"

Tony looked vaguely uncomfortable, but said simply, "Peter Taylor's waited almost fifteen years for some answers."

The two agents stared at one another until Tony, a little embarrassed, looked down and resumed his work.

Tim silently made his way towards his desk, grabbed his chair and wheeled it over.

"I just came to pick up a few books I forgot, but I've got some time. What do you have?"

"Look, Tim, I didn't say that so you would feel obligated…"

"I know you didn't. Which is why I'm sitting here."

They shared a smile and Tony gave him a brief breakdown.

"The victim in the Baltimore case was Susan Moss, aged 27. She was a waitress, married to Henry Moss for approximately six months prior to her death and they rented an apartment in a low-income subdivision of Baltimore. Henry, now deceased, had been arrested a few nights prior to the incident on a D&D charge."

"He hadn't been released?"

"Apparently, he couldn't come up with the bail. Susan was sexually assaulted and killed by asphyxiation. Her body was found on the bed, fully clothed. Only a few items of jewelry were taken from the home, most notably Susan's wedding ring. According to the notes, the other items taken weren't catalogued."

"That's surprising."

"Yeah, I'm going to ask about that. It seems a little off."

"Any suspects?"

"Not really. Witness statements are non-existent."

"No witness statements?" Tim said incredulously.

"The area runs on the '_saw nothing, heard nothing, know nothing_' philosophy," Tony replied disgustedly.

"So, other than similarities in assault, method of killing and the whole clothes thing…"

"It appears that the two crimes are completely unrelated. I'm reaching, I know."

"Not necessarily. All you have are your friend's notes. Maybe if you can look at actual pictures of the crime scene and the ME's report you'll have a better basis for comparison."

"True. Now that I have more details, I should be able to access the official records in the database. If I want pictures and the whole nine yards, I'll have to pitch it to Gibbs. I can't get access to all of that until it's approved. We wouldn't want to step on any toes." Tony said, rolling his eyes.

"It seems kind of pointless for me to pursue this," Tony mused.

"What's your gut telling you?"

"It's still tingling."

"Always trust your gut," Tim said solemnly.

They both chuckled and Tim stood up, returned his chair to his desk and picked up the books he came by to get.

"Sorry, I can't stay…"

Tony waved him off. "Have fun. Tell Sarah I said hi."

"How did you know I was going to see my sister?"

"She wrote it on her blog."

"You follow her blog?"

"Sure. She's a good writer – insightful, entertaining and sometimes, a little bit mean. Plus, she puts up funny pictures of you that I've been saving for future pranks."

Tim's jaw dropped. "I'm going to kill her."

Tony laughed. "I'm kidding." He paused for typical DiNozzo dramatic effect. "Maybe."

Tim waved, making his way to the elevator. Tony watched him go, thinking that maybe he should say something else, but not knowing what.

4-4-4-4-4-4-4-4

As Tim got into his car, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Tony. He liked to rib him about being a slacker and always looking like he had nothing to do, but Tim knew that Tony was really a good agent. A very dedicated one, too.

After dinner on Friday, the two had stuck around the pub until closing time, just talking. They had often gone out with the rest of the team, especially after a difficult case, to vent and unwind. He felt, somehow, that this had been different.

He'd spent Saturday puttering around his apartment, not doing much of anything, which gave him far too much time to think. Tony had revealed more to him on Friday night then he had in the five years that they'd known each other.

Their dynamic had changed so much from when he had first started working with NCIS. He couldn't recall the exact moment that he stopped thinking of Tony as the movie-loving, goofy playboy and started thinking of him as a friend.

If he were honest with himself, for the last few months, especially after Ziva had left the team, he had begun to see the older man as something… _more_.

Of course, just because he could be honest with himself didn't mean he knew what to do with those feelings.

_Tony wasn't even gay_, he admonished himself. The never-ending stories of his sexual exploits (and seriously, enough already with the stories) were proof of that. He might be completely disgusted by the idea. And even if he were interested in men, who was to say that he would be interested in someone like _him_, Elf Lord geek extraordinaire?

It was not just that, though. Tim could put aside his insecurities because Tony had been right the other night, he was manning up, all around. The other worry was that they weren't just co-workers at some boring office job, they were federal agents who depended on each other in dangerous situations.

Their mission in North Africa had cemented his respect and admiration for Tony. Before going, he knew without question that Tony always had his six. But North Africa… it had been an insane mission from the get-go, one that could have ended very, very badly. Had it not been for Tony's uncanny ability to find the right words to say and how to get inside Saleem's head, he knew he would be dead.

He owed Tony his life many times over.

Was he willing to risk damaging all of that for something he wasn't even sure about himself?

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He pulled into the parking lot of his sister's place and tried to push all of those thoughts out of his mind like he always did. The trouble was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore his feelings for the older man.

Something had to give. And soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Monday morning rolled around and Tim entered the office to find Tony already there, talking on the telephone with someone.

As he went through his morning routine, he watched Tony. He had been doing that a lot lately, it seemed. He noted that Tony was speaking in a low whisper, softly enough that he couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

_Probably talking to that date he's going out with on Saturday_, he thought morosely to himself. He tried to ignore the spurt of jealousy that filled him.

He had just finished turning on his computer when he looked up in time to see a flirty smile cross Tony's mouth before he said something quietly and then hung up the phone.

"Just got off the phone with my friend. They're willing to share the whole case file with us, but I've got to clear it with Gibbs first."

"Did you find anything interesting after I left?"

"Another similarity – Susan was around four months pregnant at the time of her death. She also had a nine year old daughter."

Tim winced and let out a breath. "She wasn't the one that found her, was she?"

"No, thank God. Her father has primary custody. Susan only saw her every other weekend."

"The fact that Susan was pregnant - that seems pretty coincidental and since we've already established that there are no such things as coincidences…"

Tony nodded. "The serial killer angle you suggested is starting to look more plausible. I've already started a search for like crimes between the two cities, but it's a lot to slog through."

"The time line's pretty big, too. If you want, I can help you with the search. I might be able to focus the criteria you used to cut back the number of hits you get."

Tony laughed. "Is that your diplomatic way of saying that I suck at writing search syntax?"

"I wouldn't say _suck_ exactly."

"OK, McGeek, I would appreciate the help. There's no way I can got through the 3,182 cases matches that I've already gotten."

"What? Why did you get so many?"

"I may have been, um, really non-specific in my search criteria."

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes. "Send me your list and I'll do another search."

Tony turned to his computer to send him the information and while Tim waited he asked, with some hesitation, "I thought your cop buddy was a guy."

"Huh? What?"

"Your friend in Baltimore? The one who's in charge of the Moss case.

"Oh, him? Yeah, his name's Dan Warner. What made you think he wasn't a guy?" He asked distractedly.

Tim was stunned but managed to say, "Nothing, never mind."

Inside, his mind was reeling somewhat. He had an inner debate about whether Tony was indeed flirting on the telephone with his friend or if he had just imagined it.

He had been watching Tony for a while and he knew most, if not all, of Tony's patent looks by heart – teasing Tony, annoyed Tony, getting ready for a Gibbs' head slap Tony and, of course, flirting Tony. Flirting Tony was the one he saw most often and that was the one he was sure he had seen while Tony had been on the phone with Dan.

He was lost in thought when from the corner of his eye he saw Tony make his way over to Gibbs' desk.

"Boss, I might have something on the Taylor case." Although he couldn't hear what they were saying he figured Tony was filling Gibbs in on what little information he had.

"It's an interesting connection and we've been sitting on this case for nearly 15 years. If they're willing to share intel, let's do it. I'll clear it with the director. Make it happen, DiNozzo."

"On it, boss."

As Tony passed his desk, he shot Tim a small smile.

The day passed slowly. Tim slogged through the cold cases he had on his desk, as well as running the search for Tony. He had been periodically sending the ones that seemed close in description to the Taylor and Moss cases to Tony, but he hadn't had a chance to read through everything.

Just after lunch Tony approached his desk.

"Anything, Probie?"

"I've got a few more potentials but, you're right, without reading the entire record it's difficult to narrow it down. Unfortunately, _victim redressed after assault_ isn't in any of the search fields." Tim replied, disappointment evident in his voice.

"Figured as much," Tony replied. "Hopefully tomorrow will be more productive. Once everything's been approved, Dan said he would upload the photos onto the system so I can have a look through them."

"They're being pretty forthcoming with all of this. They're not worried about jurisdictional limitations and us usurping their territory?"

"Honestly? I don't think they care. Nothing against Dan, he's a good guy, but looking at the report, it's pretty sloppy police work."

"I wondered when you said that there were no witness statements and no catalogue of what was stolen."

"No DNA, no suspects, one more crime in an area with an astonishingly high crime rate. I'm not too surprised it was bumped to their cold case bin after less than a year."

"A year?" Tim asked, incredulously.

"It happens. It doesn't make it right, but… Anyway," Tony said, placing his hand on the younger agent's shoulder, "thanks for going through the files for me, Tim. I appreciate you taking the time."

He felt Tony give his shoulder a squeeze and watched him head back to his desk.

Tim tried hard not to think too much about how solid and warm Tony's hand had felt or about the fact that he was calling him Tim more and more frequently.

5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5

Tim watched as Ziva packed up her stuff and left the office, waving good-bye to her fellow agents. He looked over to his left to see Tony staring intently at his monitor.

He sent the cases he found in the last hour to Tony's e-mail address and pushed away from his desk. He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath and walked over to Tony.

"I just sent you the last of the cases that I found. Any luck so far?"

"Nada. Zilch. Zippo." Tony swung his chair around to face the younger man. "Are my eyes bleeding? They feel like I've been rubbing sandpaper on them all day."

Tim crouched down, using the request as an excuse to get closer to the senior agent, and stared carefully into his eyes.

"They're a little red, but definitely not bleeding," he said. His voice sounded a bit high to him, but he hoped that Tony didn't detect it. He had never had the opportunity to look so closely into Tony's eyes and he couldn't help but notice the flecks of gold hidden in the deep green and brown.

"O.K. Good to know. I don't think even Ducky knows how to treat bleeding eyes." Tony leaned his head back against the top of his chair giving Tim a chance to admire the long column of his neck.

Tim looked away in case Tony caught him staring and tried desperately to tame the crazy butterflies that were fluttering in his stomach.

"You heading out now?" Tony asked, head still tilted towards the ceiling.

"Just about. But, if you want, I can stay and help you look through the cases. I don't mind sticking around."

Tony prepared one of his customary witty remarks about geeks having nothing better to do, which he didn't _actually_ believe, when he saw Tim's face. It was slightly flushed and there was something in his eyes that looked like… _arousal_?

_Not possible, _Tony thought and gave himself a mental shake.

"I only planned on staying a little while longer. There's only so much I can take looking at these case files."

"Yeah, the bleeding eyes thing," Tim said as he hid his disappointment.

"No. Well, yes that's part of it, but I actually meant having to read the details about all of these women being assaulted and killed. It's not exactly easy reading, you know?" A shadow passed across Tony's eyes.

Tim's hand reached out to offer comfort but he stopped midway, not sure how it would be received. He hurriedly stuck his hand in his pocket and said instead, "Give me half of what you were going to read, that way you don't have to read all of it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"It shouldn't take us that long to get through them, then. I was going to order some pizza. I'm starving. Do you want any?"

"Sure, Tony. No anchovies on mine." Tim added as he recalled the last time he let Tony order for him.

Tony had the phone in his hand when he turned and looked at his partner. "Thanks, Tim."

"What are friends for?"

Tony smiled. As he dialed the pizza place around the corner he could not help but think about that look on Tim's face. _Something to think about later_, he thought to himself.

5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5

By mid afternoon the next day, Tony was able to access the pictures from the Moss case. As he viewed them on his computer, he noticed immediately that Susan's body was posed almost exactly like Laura Taylor's, right down to the positioning in the centre of the bed. The resolution was not good enough to tell on his screen, but his gut clenched as he saw how neatly Susan was dressed.

"Boss, I've got the pictures from the Moss case and it's a dead ringer for the Taylor case."

"Put it up on the plasma."

As Tony put it up on the screen, the rest of the team gathered around Gibbs.

"This is not a coincidence," Ziva said.

Gibbs stared hard at the pictures. "No, it's not. What do we know, DiNozzo?"

Tony gave a brief run-down of the two crimes.

"So basically nothing was stolen from the crime in Baltimore?" Gibbs asked.

"Her wedding ring, a few trinkets, nothing else specified. Not much to steal, really. Both women were pregnant."

"Do you think it is possible that the killer is targeting pregnant women?" Ziva asked.

"I thought about that, but Susan's medical file shows no record of her pregnancy. It's more than likely she hadn't even seen a doctor about it even though she was already four months along. Dan's notes say that Henry, that's the husband, knew she was pregnant so she might have taken a home pregnancy test. Unless the killer knew the family, how would they have known?"

"What about Laura Taylor?" Tim asked.

"She already had an OB and had her first ultrasound even though she wasn't into her second trimester."

"If Susan was farther along in her pregnancy why had she not gone to see a doctor?" Ziva asked.

"Probably no health insurance," Gibbs said. "Any connection between the two families?"

"Different ends of the spectrum, boss."

"Any like crimes in the area?"

"McGee and I looked at cases yesterday, but the list is pretty long. Lots of home invasions with or without assault in the last fifteen years, but nothing so far that matches the description about body placement and clothing."

"Widen the search grid."

"Widen?" Tony asked, eyes widening fractionally.

"Look at the other bordering states. Go back at least twenty years. Laura Taylor may not have been the first victim. Get to work!" Gibbs ordered as he saw his agents hesitate.

Ziva and Tim went to their desk to do what was asked, but Tony lagged behind.

"Is there a reason you're still standing here, DiNozzo?"

"Do you want us to talk to Peter Taylor to see if he recognizes Susan?"

"No need to bring him in until there's more information. Laura's death shook him badly."

"Do you know Peter?" Tony asked.

"Not before the case. He came regularly to the Naval Yard for a few years following his wife's death to get updates. His wife's case wasn't one of mine, but we talked a little bit about it."

Gibbs did not say _I knew what he was going through_, but Tony knew he was thinking it by the nearly imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

Tim observed the interaction and, as Tony went back to his desk, they shared a look of understanding. While Gibbs wasn't the primary investigator for the case, he still hadn't forgotten about it.

Keeping this in mind, the two agents began the arduous task of broadening their search.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony sat on his couch as he flipped mindlessly through the channels. It was well passed midnight but he couldn't sleep. The last couple of days had been an exercise in futility. They'd made no progress - widening the search had yielded no similar cases and had only served to lower his spirits.

By the time he had gotten home he was exhausted, mentally and physically. He hadn't been kidding when he had told Tim the other day that it was hard to read the details about all of those cases. He had been in law enforcement a long time and he knew he would never, ever get used to the brutality and violence that others inflicted on one another.

He figured if he ever got to that point, it was time to call it quits.

The one and only bright spot had been looking through the case files the night before with Tim. Although it had been long and tedious work, the fact that he was not alone in doing it had somehow made it easier.

Okay, if he were going to be really truthful, it wasn't so much that he hadn't been alone that made it easier but the fact that it had been _Tim _who had stayed behind with him.

And wasn't that realization a kick in the ass? Or a sharp, Gibbs' like slap to the back of the head.

He shut off the television, plunging the room into silence and darkness. He rubbed his face warily and tried very hard not to overanalyze it. Whatever _it _was.

Flinging his head back on to the couch he brought up the image of _that look_ on Tim's face Monday night. He was usually really good at reading people. Supremely good. It's what he did. He knew when someone wanted him and everything about that looked had screamed _I want to see you naked and have my way with you_.

But then again, maybe he was just projecting.

Over the last little while, he had found himself reacting more and more to everything Tim did. And not in a good way. Okay, scratch that, yes in a _good_ way but in a totally unprofessional _red light! red light!_ kind of way.

Monday night had made it abundantly clear how deep he was in. He'd hung out with Tim after they'd shut down their computers, ate the last of the pizza and talked about Tim's new novel. He had been doing his usual song and dance about giving Tommy a more prominent role when he'd gotten distracted.

His entire spiel had been waylaid by pizza sauce. Pizza sauce clinging rather precariously on the bottom of one Timothy McGee's lower lip. He had stopped mid-sentence and watched as Tim's pink tongue darted out and licked at the errant bit of sauce. Something so mundane that would have escaped his notice on anyone else had suddenly made all of the blood rush from his brain to other, more interesting parts of his anatomy.

"Tony?" Tim had asked when he had remained silent for what could have been forever as his brain had lost all ability to tell time, but it was really probably just a few seconds.

He tried to swallow but his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

"Er… where was I?" His voice sounded hoarse to his ears.

"Expounding the numerous and varied reasons why my next book should, in your words, be all about the awesome exploits of Special Agent Tommy. Is something wrong?"

He had taken a huge gulp of his drink and tried to pull himself together. He wondering where the hell the usual suave, dashing, witty DiNozzo went and remembered… probably where all of his blood had pooled.

Shifting slightly, he had grabbed the empty pizza boxes and made his way towards the break room garbage bins, making sure to keep his back to Tim.

"Nothing. I just realized how late it was. We should get going. You need your beauty sleep." It was a cheap shot and he knew it, but his brain couldn't come up with anything better.

And that had been that.

Except for the part where he had found himself watching Tim all day today. And every so often, he thought he saw Tim watching him too.

He slumped further into the couch, shifting so that his butt was nearly off of the edge He had no idea when he had become the star of one of those annoying angst-filled teen soap operas that were nothing like the shows he used to watch when he was younger. All that back and forth crap of does he like me, oh my god he _does_ and oh my god he _doesn't…_

And oh. my. god. he _really_ needed to sleep and to not think about this anymore.

Tomorrow he would put on his big boy pants, talk to Tim and figure out what the hell was going on.

If not tomorrow then the day after that. Or, maybe when the case was over. _Definitely_ when the case was over. Unless something else came up.

Tony shook his head vigorously in a hopeless attempt to stop thinking about it and finally dredged up enough energy to get his ass off of the couch and into bed.

The next morning he refused to think about the erotic dream he had about himself, pizza sauce and Tim's agile tongue.

6-6-6-6-6-6-6-6

Several days had passed and the team was no further along on the Moss and Taylor cases then they had been at the start of the workweek. In a bid to get more information, Tony had contacted Baltimore PD and asked for the evidence from the crime scene so that Abby might have a look at it. They had promised to get it to him, but it had not been delivered yet.

On Friday, close to end of day, a visitor was escorted into the Naval Yard.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo!"

Tony's head shot up at the familiar voice.

"Dan! How's it going? What brings you to D.C.?"

"Can't a guy just drop by?" The handsome, dark-haired man asked as he approached Tony and enveloped him in a hug.

Tim watched enviously as Tony returned the embrace. He saw Tony start to step away, but the taller man held on a bit longer than necessary before he too stepped back.

"I am personally escorting the items you requested. I wanted to make sure that they didn't get lost in the transfer."

"I'm sure the courier would have done their job properly," Tony said with a teasing smile.

"What can I say? I couldn't resist an opportunity to visit my favorite federal agent. It's been too long."

"Who is your friend, Tony?" Ziva cut in as she got up from her desk to stand beside the two men.

"Dan, this is Ziva David. Ziva, Detective Dan Warner from the Baltimore PD. Be careful, Dan, she's a man-eater."

"Not a problem. I like to be eaten," Dan said with a playful smile.

The look of interest on Ziva's face quickly dissolved at his statement.

"He is your doppeldangle, Tony. Just taller and better looking."

Tony choked on the water he had been drinking while Dan laughed.

"The term is _doppelganger_. And, for your information, he wears lifts. Not to mention that your eye-sight is awful. Better looking… pffft."

Ziva ignored Tony as she shut off her computer and collected her belongings to go home.

"Give me the box. I will take it to Abby so that she does not have to be subjected to your doppelganger."

Tony made his very showy _ouch, that's got to sting_ face.

Dan simply raised his eyebrows and laughed. "She really _is_ a man-eater. You'll have to sign for it Ms. David. Chain of evidence and all that."

Ziva gave him a tight smile and held out her hand for the waiver.

Dan made sure to brush his hand gently across her palm before relinquishing the document.

Scrunching her nose at the contact, she signed the paper, took the box and left without a backwards glance.

"Wow. Is she always like that?"

"No. She's normally very calm and cool-headed. I bring out that knee-jerk response."

"You were always good with the ladies, Tony."

"Well, I don't like to brag…"

"Yeah, you do."

"Hey, boss. Didn't see you there." Tony turned swiftly in the direction of Gibbs' voice.

"Is there a reason you're just standing around? If you're not working, go home. Bring that guy with you."

"Gibbs this is…"

"Dan Warner. So you're the infamous Gibbs."

Gibbs' expression didn't warm a fraction, even as Dan gave his best, megawatt smile.

"Go. Now."

"Right. Have a good weekend." Tony hurried to get his stuff, recognizing the look on Gibbs' face.

"McGee, got any plans?"

Tim paused in the process of turning off his monitor. For a brief moment he thought about saying he was busy, but decided he wanted to see Dan and Tony interact together. He needed to confirm if his earlier suspicion that there was something other than friendship between the two was correct.

"No, not really."

"Great, come with us."

Dan looked slightly put out that someone else was joining them, but Tim chose to ignore it, filing the factoid away in the _Tony might not be as straight as I thought he was_ compartment of his brain.

Instead of going to their normal pub, the one that they had gone to the week before, Tim followed Tony to a restaurant a few miles away from the office. He had never been to this place and wondered why Tony chose it.

As he joined the two men already waiting to be seated he took in the atmosphere of the restaurant. While not exactly seedy, it was not a place that he would think Tony would regularly frequent. It was a bit dark and although there were a few booths and tables, the majority of the space was taken up by a bar, pool tables and a couple of large television screens.

Tony noticed Tim's expression and explained, "I found this place when I first started at NCIS. I know it doesn't look that great, but the food's not bad, the beer's cold and, well, it's a good place to go if you don't want to run into anyone you know."

Tony had averted his eyes when he said the last statement, instead feigning interest in the sports game playing on one of the televisions.

After they took their seats and placed their orders, Tim remained silent and simply observed the two men together. Every so often, Tony would shoot a glance towards Tim, but made no move to say anything.

Dan, meanwhile, got progressively more drunk as the evening wore on and, in the process, became a little more grabby with the senior agent. Tim watched, almost dumbfounded, as Dan placed his hand high on Tony's thigh and asked, with a slightly slurred voice, "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I've already made plans. I have a date."

"Well, that's too bad. I guess I should have called before I decided to come to D.C."

Tony extricated Dan's hand from his thigh and moved a little bit farther away along the booth's bench. He risked a look at Tim, trying to gauge his reaction but saw that his face was carefully blank.

_Who knew Tim had such a good poker face_? Tony wondered to himself.

"What about you, Tim?"

Tim was startled when he turned to find Dan's disarming smile directed towards him.

Tim cleared his throat. "No, I have plans, too."

"Ah, well. I suppose I'll have to find someone else to entertain me. Gotta hit the head," he said abruptly and left their table.

Tony waited until Dan was out of earshot. "I'm sorry about that. I would say that he usually shows better manners or discretion but that would just be a bold faced lie," Tony said, taking a long pull of his beer.

"Is that why you take him here?"

"Got it in one, Probie. You're turning into a real eagle-eyed investigator."

Tony waited for the questions or _something_ from Tim after he witnessed that rather compromising display with Dan, but nothing came. Finally, big boy pants on and firmly belted around his waist he took a chance and said,

"Listen, Tim, I might have mislead you a bit about, um… how do I put this?"

"You're not as straight as you claim to be?"

Tony chuckled. "Let's just say I walk a thin line with lots of detours."

After a rather brief mental scuffle in which a really loud voice was yelling "_do it! do it!"_ in his ear, Tony said, "I'm sorry that he hit on you. He usually has better gaydar."

Tim hesitated for a moment before he took his own plunge and said, "Actually, I would say it's pretty accurate."

Tony managed to keep the bit of food he had just put in his mouth from shooting across the table

"What? After all those times I teased you about being gay or bi and you always denied it."

"You expected me to actually confirm it? I'm cautious. I mentioned that I was a navy brat, right?"

Tony nodded.

"My sexual preference is private. Besides, you're one to talk! How many stories did I have to endure about your sexual exploits with women?"

"Some of those were true."

Tim just glared at him.

Tony's smile became a little bittersweet. "You know what they say, those that protest the loudest are usually the ones who have something to hide."

The two men sat silently for another moment or two.

"So, Dan's not your type, huh?"

"He's good-looking, I'm not _blind_, Tony. But, I prefer someone with more substance."

"Someone you can get your geek on with?"

Tim's glare from earlier was back, just a little bit fiercer than before. "I'm more than just a geek."

"I know, Tim," Tony said with a small, gentle smile. Tim's anger quickly disappeared.

"Do you realize that he hasn't once asked about the Moss case? It's _his_ case that _you're_ working on and he hasn't even bothered. That says a lot about him. You could never be that thoughtless." The last sentence was out before Tim could stop it.

Speechless, Tony turned to Tim as his heart hammered a little faster. _Oh god, say something!_

Before he could think of a response, Dan returned to the table.

"Alright gentlemen, who's ready for another round?"


	7. Chapter 7

Tony stood in front of the mirror to adjust his tie before leaving to pick up his date for the evening. He pulled on the sleeve of his expensive suit jacket and gave his reflection one last once over.

He really didn't feel like going out with Sasha, the hot date he'd been bragging about for the last couple of weeks.

How could he possibly concentrate on the date when all he could think about was what happened the night before? Going out with Dan and Tim had left Tony with a strange, surreal feeling. Tony had known as soon as he had invited Tim to go out with them that Tony's well-crafted and much-loved womanizer persona would be shattered.

He knew it would happen – it was Dan and that's just how Dan operated. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to gauge Tim's reaction without having to resort to _The Talk_. And, let's face it, Tony was all about avoiding _that_.

Tim's reaction had been exactly what he had hoped. Well, it could have been better - he could have admitted that he was interested in _him_ instead of just men in general. But this, _this_ he could work with.

He'd wished there had been an opportunity to say something else to Tim before Dan had interrupted. In the end, his old friend had done one too many rounds and Tony had called it a night and drove him to his hotel. By the time he had gotten home it was beyond late and he'd barely had the energy to take off his work clothes before passing out on his bed.

He'd spent a good portion of the morning staring at the phone, debating whether or not to call Tim (and secretly hoping that he would call him). Just after twelve he decided if he continued this ridiculous behavior he would have to officially declare himself pathetic and retire his Sean Connery impression permanently. So not going to happen.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror one last time and admired how well the Armani showed off the breadth of his shoulders (but _really_? He could probably wear a potato sack and still look hot). Finally, he sighed, grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

He picked up Sasha, an accountant who worked for the firm that handled his taxes, and took her to a posh, trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. They made casual conversation and Tony played the part of Casanova, putting extra effort to be witty and charming to compensate for his lack of interest.

He really should have just cancelled the date, but it had seemed rude considering they'd already postponed it once. Plus, he always made it a policy to give at least twenty-fours notice if he were going to cancel (unless work came up and then all bets were off).

He should have just called Tim. He _really_ should have. Momentum was being lost even as he sat there listening to Sasha complain about 1040s and W2s. _Strike while the iron was hot_ was his usual SOP in these situations, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He knew _why_ he was hesitating. He was no good at these types of things. Well, to be fair (and he was always fair when he came to rating his own sexual prowess) he was very, very good at luring people in and seducing them. If this was just about taking Probilicious to bed, it would be a slam dunk. In the bag. A done deal.

But it wasn't. This _thing_ that he had inside of him for Tim… it _mattered_. Really mattered. He didn't want to screw it up like he did pretty much every other relationship he'd had with anyone. Ever.

Tony figured that it _had_ to mean something that Tim had outed himself. He could have just left it after Tony's comment about Dan's radar and been done with it. He'd kept it under wraps for over five years; there was no reason to admit it now. He had managed to keep it a secret despite Tony's long-time obsession with digging it out of him.

Tony blinked, distracted by the thought. Had he really been thinking about Tim in _that way_ for five years? Had his subconscious mind (that thing he never, ever looked at too closely because it was a very scary place filled with complex things like _feelings_) pushed and belabored the "_would you get it on with a guy_" harassment because he had always wanted Tim?

As he looked back he realized that he'd always been kind of attracted to the younger agent. When Tim had first started at NCIS, he was so wet behind the ears that all Tony wanted to do was take him under his wing and make sure that nothing ever happened to him. There was something about Tim's earnest eagerness, keen enthusiasm and desperate-to-belong attitude that got to Tony.

It reminded him of the _other_ Tony, the one that he hid under layers and layers of attitude, jokes, sexual innuendos and really nice, expensive clothes.

Although the new Tim had more field experience and confidence, Tony knew that the not-so-new-Tim was still there.

As his date with Sasha wore on he listened with only half an ear to her talk about work, audits and her three cats. He felt badly that he was not paying as much attention as he should have, but as she didn't seem to care or notice, he continued to let his mind wander.

He'd always found that dating men was a bit less tedious. Women were wonderful: all curves, pretty hair and tinkly laughs. They had their own certain allure, but he knew that if he had to choose, he would prefer a same-sex relationship.

It had been a long time since he had gone out with a man, the last one just before he had started working for NCIS. It had seemed easier all around to maintain a heterosexual lifestyle while working at the Naval Yard. There were no overt indications that it was taboo, but he figured that the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy was still in affect.

He caught the tail-end of Sasha recounting the adventures of her cat Boots (Boots? Really? She had clearly seen the Shrek movies one too many times) and he couldn't help think about what it would be like to take Tim out to a place like this.

_Dammit. _Now he was day-dreaming about romantic dates with McGee? He really needed to stop. There was a beautiful woman sitting in front of him and all he could think about was starting a relationship with his male co-worker. _Stop. Stop right now. STOP!_

He tried to focus on Sasha, but something in his gut was tingling and this time it had nothing to do with TIm. He looked up to see that Sasha's attention was on her dessert menu (but she somehow still managed to talk about the digestive issues of her cat Marmalade) so he covertly took his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a button. A moment later, it began to ring.

Feigning surprise, he picked it up and looked at the caller ID while he smiled apologetically to his date.

"I'm sorry, it's my boss. I have to take this."

He opened the phone and walked away, pretending to speak to the non-existent voice on the other line. He made his way outside so as not to disturb the other diners and quickly hit speed dial 2 and waited as the phone rang. He checked the time and realized that it was just after eight and maybe he would be out and that this was probably a _really_ stupid idea.

He was about to hang up when someone picked up on the other end. He could hear soft music playing in the background and he cursed himself silently.

"Hello, McGee speaking."

"Tim, it's Tony. You're probably busy but I just had a quick question about the searches you've been doing for the Moss/Taylor cases."

"Tony, it's Saturday night. I thought you had a date."

"I do. I'm on it right now, actually."

"It's going so badly that you're calling me in the middle of it?"

"No, she is _all over _me," he said, more out of habit then anything else.

"And why aren't you all over her, then?" Tim asked, his tone filled with sarcasm.

_Because I want to be all over you_, Tony thought, but managed to keep that to himself.

"I was just, um, thinking about the case and this idea popped into my head. Have you only been looking at female victims in your search."

"Yes. I mean, the victim in both cases was female. Why?"

"I was just thinking that… men have sex with other men…" Tony could feel the heat spreading from his neck, up to his face and when the hell did DiNozzo's _blush_?

"I've heard that this has happened before," Tim said, amusement clear in his voice.

"I just didn't want us to rule it out." Tony winced and looked up at the sky helplessly. _Was he referring to the case or to him and Tim?_

"O…kay."

"Anyway, yeah, that's all I wanted to know. Thanks. Sorry to bother you and please tell your date I'm sorry. Gotta get back to Sasha."

"No problem." Tim hesitated for a brief moment before he continued. "I'm not… on a date, I mean. I'm at home. I'm trying to get some writing done and I like to have jazz music playing in the background sometimes."

Tony smiled, pleased. "How's it going?"

"I've got McGregor trapped in an abandoned mine shaft. It's looking pretty grim."

"I'm sure Special Agent Tommy will figure out how to rescue him."

"McGregor can handle himself without Tommy's help, thank you very much."

Tony snickered. "You keep telling yourself that, Probie. So, are you wearing that jacket thing, with the padded sleeves?" As the words came out of his mouth, Tony cringed. _Oh my god, I'm flirting with McGee… and not very well_!

Tim just laughed. "No. Go back to your date, Tony."

"Sure thing. Happy writing, Tim."

Tony hung up the phone with a smile on his face. As he put it away, he looked through the window and saw Sasha at their table, typing something on her cell phone. She was probably texting how horrible the date was going and how inconsiderate he was for taking a phone call on their date. He couldn't really blame her.

He made his way back to their table, watching as she quickly put her phone away.

"Sorry about that. We're working on a case right now and my boss has a new avenue to investigate. I told him I'd run the search tomorrow."

Her eyes perked up with interest. "Oh, wow. What's the case about?"

"We're investigating the murder of a marine's wife."

Sasha's hand reached towards Tony's on the table. She clasped it tightly and said, "That's awful. That poor woman. Her husband must be devastated. Do you investigate a lot of cases like this?"

"Not a lot, no." Tony said, trying to block the memories of all the crime scenes in his head.

He looked into Sasha's eyes filled with a combination of morbid curiosity and feigned sympathy. He couldn't help but recall the moment with Tim at the pub the week before, talking about Kate. The way Sasha was holding his hand was nearly identical but it paled in comparison.

He gave Sasha a small smile and changed the subject smoothly, just as a frothy chocolate concoction was placed on the table. Sasha broke into a wide grin, released his hand, all pretense at sympathy already forgotten.

After he drove her home, declining an invitation to come up to her place citing the need to get to the office early (and when had ever said _no_ before?) he couldn't help but think that the best part of his evening had been talking on the phone with Tim.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was Sunday morning and Tim was riding the elevator at work trying to balance a box of pastries and a tray holding his latte and a hot chocolate from the coffee shop down the block. He was mentally chiding himself for coming in when the team wasn't scheduled to.

_This is such a dumb idea. He's probably not even here. He had a date last night. He's probably spending the morning in bed with her._

As the doors opened, he wondered what the hell he would do with all of the baked goods if Tony wasn't there. _Probably put myself into a sugar coma_, he thought disgustedly.

He walked through the doors and took a few steps before he stopped in his tracks. There he was, sitting at his desk wearing an old Ohio State sweatshirt, hair slightly ruffled, reading something on his desk. Tim gave himself a moment to stare; something about seeing Tony in so casual an outfit when he was normally always dressed in a suit did something funny to his insides.

He imagined that this is what he would look like at home on a lazy Sunday morning, feet up on the couch and reading a magazine. He tried not to think about what it would be like to be there with him, maybe with Tony's head in his lap as he did the Sunday crossword puzzle.

He shook his head to dispel the image but couldn't quite shake the little bubble of happiness that it had given him.

"Good morning, Tony. I brought breakfast."

Tony looked up in surprise. Tim glimpsed the pleasure that flittered across Tony's face upon seeing him and it caused the nervous knot in his stomach to ease.

"McGee! What are you doing here?"

"I figured after your phone call last night that you would show up here to run a new search. I thought I'd come by and help, make sure that you don't end up with a million hits and make the system explode."

"Ha ha. I'm not that bad at it, I'm just not you-level good, McMIT. Go home, Probie. Your services are not needed. Rest assured, I will not crash the server. I actually just used your search parameters, and substituted female with male. Even I can't screw that up."

"Well then, if that's the case I'll just take my baked goods and leave," Tim said teasingly.

"Are those from Sweet Paradise?" Tony asked, eyes gleaming.

"The one and only," Tim said as he quirked his eyebrow, moving the white bakery box from side to side temptingly.

Tony followed the progression of the box before he said, "Okay, fiiiiine, you can stay. Now gimme!"

"First you have to tell me how horrible your date was last night that you took the time to not only think about the case but to call me in the middle of it."

Tony smiled, knowing this game well. He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, preparing to brag. "It wasn't horrible. She even invited me up to her place afterwards," he said as he smirked and wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

"And yet here you are, sitting at your desk, bright and early on a Sunday morning," Tim said as he tried to ignore the tantalizing bit of golden skin that was revealed as the sweatshirt rode slightly up Tony's torso.

"Unfortunately, it turned out she was a crazy cat person and you know how I feel about cats."

"I know how cats feel about _you_."

"Same difference. All she talked about was work and her cats Boots and Marmalade. There's a third one in there, too, but I can't remember the name."

"Boots and Marmalade?" Tim asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I know!" Tony said, throwing his arms out as if to emphasize the craziness.

"So that's the only reason you said no? I've got to tell you, that's usually not enough to turn you off."

"Are you kidding me? You think I would step into a place that had _three_ cats wearing Armani?"

"You wore Armani on a first date?"

"You've got to dress to impress," Tony said. "Plus, I took her out to Bellisario's and that's not a casual clothes kind of place."

"I wouldn't know. I've never been," Tim said as he placed the white box on Tony's desk.

Tony opened it box and looked inside. Tim had gotten an assortment of things but he noticed that there were two of the Venetian filled cannolis that he liked. As he picked one up, he said, "It's a nice place. We should go together sometime."

He froze, the pastry halfway to his mouth, as he realized what he had just said.

He closed his mouth and licked his lips, his mouth and throat suddenly dry. He looked up at Tim who was staring right back at him, his expression questioning.

Tony's mind raced. His first impulse was to make light of it, kid around that Tim needed some polishing up and how he could learn from the master. It would be exactly the kind of thing he always said.

"It's ridiculously overpriced and the wait staff is kind of snotty, but the food's good and the ambiance is pretty stellar," he hedged.

They continued to stare at one another a moment, Tony midway between terrified and hopeful that Tim would call him on it.

Instead, Tim broke eye contact and placed the drinks down on the desk.

"So, did you call anyone else last night?"

Tony, who was disappointed that he hadn't been able to follow through, (and _seriously_ when did he turn into such a sissy?) asked distractedly, "Who would I call?"

"Ziva."

Tony looked up in confusion. "Why would I call Ziva?"

Tim smiled, so brightly that it made Tony's heart yearn a little. "To ask if she only looked at female victims. She did searches, too."

Tony opened his mouth as he scrambled to find something to say. Again, his first instinct was to brush it off, crack a joke about how Ziva would have killed him for interrupting her Saturday evening. But all he could think about was Tim's bright smile and the fact that he was given another chance is as many minutes to finally _say _something.

He opened his mouth to speak when his computer gave a soft, but audible beep.

"What was that?" Tim asked as he stared at the monitor, disappointed at the interruption.

Tony turned to the screen and cursed silently at another lost opportunity. "I turned the sound notification function on to let me know when the computer found a match. I didn't think there would be that many to look through so it would be more efficient to look at them as they came up. I've only had two so far and neither of them had the clothes thing."

Tim sighed, knowing that they would have to table the conversation for another time as they focused on the case. "What did you get?"

"A Baltimore PD cold case from 1997. Jake Matthews, aged 21, was raped and strangled and his live-in boyfriend, Greg Barker, aged 26, was beaten to death and had his genitals cut off. It's listed as a hate crime.

"That doesn't sound anything like the Moss or Taylor case," Tim said, walking over so that he could see the monitor. Tony automatically moved over to give Tim room.

Tony scrolled down as they both read the report silently to themselves. Tony tried to ignore the fact that Tim's face was just inches away from his.

"Nothing was reported stolen," Tim murmured.

About a minute later, Tony said, "We might need to reach out to Baltimore PD, again."

Tim turned so that he was facing Tony. "What did you see? I must have missed it."

"Here," Tony said as he pointed to the second to last paragraph of the detective's notes.

"Oh, I didn't get to that part, yet. Matthews' body was found fully clothed, positioned in the middle of the bed. That sounds like a match to both women. We'll need pictures to confirm."

"They'll probably have to scan them into the system. They probably didn't use digital in '97."

"It's odd. Barker was beaten to death while Matthews was strangled. It's possible there was more than one person involved in the crime, just like in the Taylor case," Tim said. "How was Barker found? Was he on the bed, too?"

"No, it says that he was found on the floor in the bedroom, next to an overturned chair. There were ligature marks found on Barker's wrists and ankles, indicating that he was restrained."

"Probably to the chair found next to him. Did they find what was used to bind him?"

Tony skimmed the details again. "No."

"Why tie him to the chair?" Tim wondered aloud.

Tony closed his eyes, picturing the scene based on the description. "He was probably forced to watch what they did to Matthews and then the perpetrator or perpetrators turned on him. It states that the mutilation was pre-mortem based on the blood pooling." Both men shuddered. "No wonder it was listed as a hate crime."

"Barker's death was much more violent than Matthews."

"More violent then rape and strangulation?"

"Different sort of violence, then," Tim amended.

"We'll have to talk to Detective Reid, he was primary. We should try and dig a little more before we go forward with that. Other than the clothes and positioning of Matthews, there don't appear to be any other similarities to our cases."

"I can check to see if there's a connection between either of these two victims, the Mosses and the Taylors."

"Why don't we split it? You take the Mosses and I'll take the Taylors."

"Sounds good."

Tim started to walk back towards his desk and Tony felt the loss of his heat almost immediately. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he asked, "Do you want to go out and grab something to eat after we do this?"

Tim smiled, that same bright smile from earlier and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Tony could not stop himself from grinning widely before he turned his attention back to his computer.

About an hour later, Tim said, "I've got something."

"That's good, because I've got squat."

Tim hit a few keys on his keyboard and the big plasma screen came on.

"According to employment records, Greg Barker and Henry Moss worked for the same company based in Baltimore in overlapping years. They both worked for Plaket, Inc., Barker from '91 – '95 and Moss for just a year, '93 – '94."

"Laura Taylor was killed in July of '94," Tony mused. "What exactly is Plaket, Inc.?"

"It's a transport company. It ships merchandise from distribution warehouses to specific retailers."

"Do they just deliver to retail stores or do they do any home deliveries?"

"Just stores. Did Laura Taylor work at a shop?"

"No, she was an elementary school teacher." Tony paused as he absorbed the information. "Can you get more information about the company?"

"Sure, give me a second.

As Tim looked up the information, Tony started to pace, going over the details in his mind. His brow furrowed as he started to come up with a theory, one that caused his mouth to set in a grim line.

"It's a family owned company that's been in operation for 22 years. Depending on who's contracting them, they deliver anything from appliances and electronics to clothing."

"How big is the company?"

"It looks like they employ anywhere between 40 and 50 people."

"Those are present numbers though, right?

Tim nodded.

"So if we go back fifteen years, the company's only been operating about seven years… those numbers would be cut in half at the very least."

"Barker and Moss must have known each other."

"Business like that, usually there's only one driver, but depending on how much merchandise they have to load and unload, they might need more than one person on a delivery. What cities do Plaket service?

"According to their website, Baltimore and its surrounding areas"

"Including DC?"

"Including DC." Tim confirmed.

"I'm getting a really bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too."

"What are the odds that Moss and Barker happened to work together around the same time that Laura Taylor was killed and then a few years later, Barker's lover is killed in the same manner and his body is positioned in the exact same way? Flash forward seven years and the same thing happens to Moss' wife."

"It makes a sick kind of sense. It's a leap, not a big one, but still. Was there any mention of a truck or cube-van seen near the Taylor place?"

"I can't remember. Can you pull up the report again?"

After Tim did so, they read it over together.

"Son of a bitch," Tony murmured under his breath.

"How is it you read faster than I do and I never noticed before?" Tim asked, still not having seen the cause of Tony's cursing.

"I have many hidden talents. Second page, third paragraph."

"There was an unidentified truck parked one block over. Why didn't they follow-up on that?"

Tony was going through the pages quickly. "It says here that a few times a month, for about a year, a truck similar to it was seen parked in that area. The owner of the vehicle was never identified, but I guess they just assumed that it was the same truck."

"Was the truck seen there again after the Taylor murder?"

"Yeah, a few more times after that according to the notes."

"And then it stopped?"

"It doesn't say. Maybe they wrote it off and didn't look into it further."

"Why would a truck be parked there only a few times a month?"

"Could be a lot of things. My guess - the driver was having an affair with someone who lived in the area. Spent the night whenever they had a delivery in DC and left the truck parked in the street close by."

"Sounds plausible. But why wouldn't the person who lived in the area report who the driver of the truck was?"

"The Taylors lived in a nice neighborhood, upper-middle class. You have to keep up appearances."

"Appearances? A woman was murdered," Tim said indignantly.

"You're assuming that the affair was between a man and a woman. This was back in the mid-90's. Homosexuality still held a lot of stigma."

"Barker. Yeah, good point. If we follow this theory, that Peter Taylor committed the crimes in Baltimore as revenge, why was Barker killed and mutilated and not Moss? Why were there so many years in between the two murders?"

"All good questions, Probie. Could be a lot of things. Maybe it took him that long to find out that the second person responsible was Moss. Unless…"

"You're going somewhere with this. What are you thinking?"

"Seems pretty coincidental that Susan Moss was killed while she was pregnant."

"Oh god, do you think he bided his time?"

"Maybe. Lots of maybes though."

They were silent for a moment as each tried to figure out what they should do next.

Finally, Tim said, "We need more information. Maybe Plaket, Inc. has a work log we can look at. Although 15 years… it's a long time to keep records. Plus, computers were only just starting to get big around that time, they might only have hard copies."

"We'll also need the pictures from the Barker/Matthews case to check if the positioning is the same. We need to talk to Gibbs," Tony said resignedly.

"He's not going to like this."

"No, he's not. I'll call Gibbs and see what he wants us to do."

"I'll keep looking for connections."

Tony walked back to his desk and picked up the phone, dreading the conversation with Gibbs. From what he had gathered, the Taylor case had hit a bit too close to home for him. He worried about how Gibbs would react to this new lead.

Mentally bracing himself, he dialed Gibbs' number. As he listened to the phone ring, he thought with regret that the talk with Tim would have to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Gibbs walked into the office at a brisk pace, coffee in hand, wearing worn jeans and an old NIS sweatshirt.

"What do we got?"

Tim looked up from his computer screen and quickly stood, making his way over to the older man. Tony stayed at his desk, talking to someone on the phone but held up his hand to tell Tim to start without him.

Gibbs looked at Tim expectantly.

"I'm assuming Tony told you what we found out about the Barker/Matthews case."

"That's why I'm here, McGee." Gibbs said as he glared at Tim to continue.

"Of course. I was able to contact Plaket, Inc. and they were more than willing to cooperate. We got lucky on their employment records. They had someone working for them through a high school internship program that manually inputted all of their paper files to their system. Which you couldn't care less about."

"You think?"

"Right. Short version. Barker worked for them for just over five years and although he did deliveries in a lot of areas, he was their main go-to guy for deliveries out to DC. He logged more hours for DC deliveries than any of their other workers combined."

"What about the day Laura Taylor was murdered?"

"Barker and Moss drove a shipment to DC that day. It was a heavy load of appliances, so they required two people. According to their logs they didn't return the truck until the next day."

"Something else you want to tell me?"

"Gibbs, Moss quit the job the morning they returned the truck."

"But Barker stayed on.

"Yes, sir. He was fired a year later for stealing merchandise off of a couple of their trucks."

Tony approached the two men after he got off the phone.

"I just spoke with Susan Moss' mom. I asked her if she remembered anything about the jewelry that was stolen the day her daughter was killed. She could only tell me details about her wedding ring."

Gibbs' face tightened, but he nodded his head for Tony to continue.

"It was a platinum band, no adornments or stones on it. But, boss, there was an inscription on the inside, in Latin…"

"Semper Fi," Gibbs said quietly.

Tony nodded. "Susan told her mom that the ring was Henry's mother's wedding ring and that his father was in the marines. I searched the database and there's no Clayton Montgomery Moss listed as having ever been a marine."

"Do I need to ask what Laura Taylor's wedding ring looked like?"

Tony said nothing, knowing that Gibbs didn't really expect an answer.

"Dammit," Gibbs said angrily as he slammed his coffee cup into a nearby garbage can.

Tim and Tony looked at each other, slightly confused.

"I should have known."

"Should have known what?" Tim asked tentatively.

"Peter Taylor came every week, like clockwork, to get updates. He did it for almost three years. Then he just stopped. I asked Martinez why. He said Peter was getting help and moving on with his life. He still wanted monthly updates, but he told Martinez he wouldn't be coming by anymore."

"You went to see him," Tony stated.

He nodded. "He told me that it was time for him to move on. That Laura wouldn't want him to keep doing what he was doing."

"Did you believe him?"

"He seemed to have found his peace. Who was I to question that?"

Gibbs stared at the plasma screen with the information about Laura Taylor's murder that Tim had put up earlier still displayed.

His face resolute, he made a decision and turned to his two team members. "Grab your gear. We're going to go talk to Taylor."

9-9-9-9-9-9-

They arrived at a pretty house with a flagpole in the front yard, its flag set at half-mast. Pretty flowers lined the walkway, a reminder of the woman who had planted them many years ago. Peter Taylor still lived in the same house he had shared with Laura.

The three men stood on the front porch and waited for someone to answer their knock.

About a minute passed before the door opened to reveal a man in his early forties. He looked at the trio curiously until his gaze settled on the man standing in the center, a look of recognition crossing his face.

"Agent Gibbs. It's been a while."

"It has. How've you been?"

"Good. Better than good. It took a long time, but I'm happy again. What are you doing here?"

"Can we come in?"

He hesitated for only a moment before opening the door wider, granting them entrance. He directed them into the living room and followed in their wake.

Tony looked around discretely, noticing the framed photographs of a smiling Laura Taylor and a much younger Peter. There were some recent photos, but most of them were of the couple, including a portrait taken on their wedding day that held a place of honor above the mantle.

"She was a lovely bride," Gibbs said quietly.

Peter looked at the picture, adoration clear on his face, as was the reverence in his voice as he said, "She was."

He turned to Gibbs and said, "She was the love of my life. I'm sure you understand that."

Gibbs said nothing as he took a seat, the two younger agents following suit.

Peter remained standing. "Can I offer you something to drink? I just have to go into the kitchen to turn off the stove. I was making dinner when I heard your knock."

"No, we're fine. We've come to talk about the case."

"Just give me a second. I'll be right back," he replied, his voice fading as he walked away.

A moment later, the men heard the sound of a slamming door.

The three agents quickly got to their feet and drew out their weapons. Gibbs motioned for Tim to go up the stairs, Tony to go out the front door while he went through the house to the back door.

Gibbs cursed himself silently for allowing Taylor to leave the room. He approached the door and noted that the deadbolt was undone. He turned the knob and opened the door, sweeping the back porch with his eyes and gun.

"Taylor! We just want to talk. You're making it harder for yourself."

He continued to scan the area, making his way to the front of the house. He met Tony on the front lawn, both shaking their heads indicating that they had seen no sign of their suspect.

Suddenly, they heard yelling and the sounds of a fight from inside the house.

"McGee!" "Tim!" Both agents yelled as they ran back inside the house.

They stopped short as they saw the two other men coming down the stairs. Tim was in front, shielding Peter from the agents below, a gun held to his head, blood trickling down from his temple.

"Sorry, boss."

"Not your fault, McGee. He's a trained marine, remember?"

Tony stared at McGee's too white face that made the contusions and marks from the fight more pronounced. Fear threatened to overwhelm him but he kept his gun steady and aimed at Taylor.

"Put your guns down and I want your hands where I can see them."

"Not going to happen," Gibbs replied.

"If you don't, he's a goner."

"Laura wouldn't want you to do this," Gibbs said in an attempt to reason with the distraught marine.

"What do you know what Laura would have wanted? You didn't know her."

"I know something about her. I've read the file, talked to her friends and family. She was a good person."

"She _was_. Those bastards killed her, took her away from me. They deserved what they got. Fuckers. That's why you're here, isn't it. You finally figured it out."

"Barker and Moss."

"Figures. You couldn't find Laura's killer for fifteen years, but their killer, you find."

"You withheld information from us."

"I did _your _job, Agent Gibbs. You should have found out who was driving the truck, traced it like I did. Took me three years, but I figured it out. It took you fifteen."

"It wasn't my case, Taylor, you know that."

"Doesn't matter. I found them, made them pay."

"How do you figure that?" Gibbs asked. "You didn't even touch Henry."

"I wanted him to suffer, the way I did. Watched and waited. After he got married, I knew it was only a matter of time before his whore got pregnant. Set him up at the bar and got out before the cops came. When he was in the tank, I killed her. Took back my wife's wedding ring. Asshole gave it to that slut."

Peter shifted his left hand to reveal the necklace he wore around his neck. Tony could see the ring that hung as a pendant.

"He knew. The fucker knew as soon as he found out what happened to her, he knew that it was me. He couldn't even point the finger. _Coward_. He wouldn't confess to his own crime to get justice for his wife. Bastard shot himself a year later. He couldn't live with the guilt. I win."

"Matthews and Barker?" Gibbs asked, stalling for time.

"No point in waiting for that faggot to procreate. As soon as I found out it was him, I went for it. Made him watch while I did to his lover what he did to my Laura. Then I let him have it. They deserved it. They all deserved it!" He took another step towards the landing, his hold on Tim tightening and he pressed the gun more firmly to the side of his head.

"I can't take the shot, boss." Tony whispered, his voice tinged with fear.

Gibbs gave an imperceptible nod and growled, "If you shoot him, I shoot you. Nobody wins."

"I don't care. And you're wrong. I've already won. You're not locking me up for what I did. They deserved what they got."

"What about Jake Matthews and Susan Moss. They didn't do anything to your wife."

"They don't matter. Their own fault for hooking up with fucking murderers."

Tony didn't chance looking at Tim again, afraid to see the fear that must be twisting his gut. He fought to push down his own panic and instead kept his focus on the gunman.

He could see the look in Peter's eyes clearly, the desperation and the finality. He was prepared for how this was going to end - the inevitable suicide by law enforcement.

_Hell if I'm going to let the bastard take Tim with him_, Tony thought to himself.

He kept his gun trained on Peter and asked, voice firm, but calm, "What about Susan's daughter, Miranda? Does she deserve to grow up without a mother?"

Wild eyes turned to look at Tony.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You were so focused on Henry, you didn't even think about the woman, the human being that you brutalized and killed. The family that she left behind. You didn't bother finding out anything about her, did you? What did you care that there was a little girl who got woken up at 3 in the morning to be told that her mother was gone."

Tony paused as he tried to gauge Peter's reaction. He saw something like guilt flicker briefly in his eyes, so he continued,

"She's going to have to live with that for the rest of her life. You think losing Laura ate away at your insides? You're a grown man. She was an eight-year old little girl. For over a year she kept asking her grandmother when her mom was coming to see her. She's almost fourteen now."

Tony stared straight into Peter's eyes. He noted how they clouded over briefly with sadness and took a chance, hoping that this would bring him back from the desperate edge he was standing on.

"She's about the same age as your unborn child would have been."

Something about those words struck Peter and his breath hitched. Thinking that maybe he was getting through, Tony lowered his weapon. He watched as Peter changed his grip on McGee and shifted his gun hand slightly.

Tony barely had time to yell "No!" before he heard the sound of the gun firing and then blood was everywhere


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Tim! Tim!" Tony yelled as the sound of the gun firing reverberated throughout the room.

His eyesight was slightly obscured by blood but he could make out a lone figure still standing, the other slumped to the floor. Tim's eyes were squeezed tightly, his hands over his ears and Peter's body lay at his feet.

It took Tony three attempts to holster his weapon as his hands were shaking so badly. Once he secured it, he walked the few steps it took to reach McGee's side on unsteady legs.

"Tim." He watched, almost in a haze, as his hands reached forward to touch the other man's shoulders.

Shocked green eyes met his.

He tamped down the almost desperate need to cradle that body against his to offer comfort and reassurance and instead pulled it away from the one lying on the floor.

Gibbs approached the two men and grasped Tim's arm.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, boss. Just some ringing in my ears."

"Go outside. Call it in. Make sure you get that looked at," Gibbs said, indicating the bloody welt on Tim's head.

Tim nodded and shakily made his way out the door. Tony watched to make sure he was steady enough, resisting the urge to follow him. Once Tim was outside, he turned to join Gibbs as he surveyed what remained of Peter Taylor.

Tony saw the weariness and a hint of sorrow in the older man's eyes as he stared down at Taylor's lifeless body.

"We couldn't have saved him, boss."

"No, we couldn't have."

Tony debated on whether to say anything else, when Gibbs spoke.

"You did good, DiNozzo."

The praise, so uncharacteristic of the reserved former Gunnery Sergeant, left Tony speechless.

"Secure the scene, take the car and make sure McGee gets home alright. We'll deal with the paperwork tomorrow."

Tony nodded and he set to work, the routine helping to calm his frayed nerves.

Once he finished his job, Tony went outside and found Tim talking to one of the medics.

"How are you feeling?"

Tim looked up, his eyes wary and posture slumped.

"I've been better. I have a mild concussion, but they said I'm free to go."

Tony nodded. "I've got him," he said, waving at the EMT. "I'll take you home, Tim. Gibbs said I should take the car. Do you need a hand?"

Tim shook his head and stared at Tony. His partner's normally expressive face was carefully blank. Not knowing what to say he followed him to the car. The drive to his apartment was made in silence. Tim could sense that something was off with Tony as he noted the clenched set of his jaw and the white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel.

They got to his apartment and Tim expected Tony to pull up to the curb, but instead he parked the car in the visitor's lot. Tony was out of the car even before Tim had his seatbelt off.

"You don't have to come in with me. I'm fine. They cleared me."

"Sure you are. The guy held a gun to your head, threatened to kill you and then blew his brains out with you beside him. Why wouldn't you be fine?"

Tim could feel the heat and anger behind Tony's words and didn't understand it. This was not the first time his life has been in danger and it had never brought out this type of reaction before.

Tony was already stalking towards Tim's apartment door and so Tim followed, not sure what was going through the senior agent's head.

He opened the door wordlessly and moved as if to block the entrance to prevent Tony from coming in, but he had already sidestepped him and was standing in his hallway.

"You need to have better reflexes, Probie. Did you even react when he grabbed you?"

"He got me from behind and I wasn't prepared for it. I _did_ fight back."

"How many times has Gibbs told you – always anticipate."

"Why are you so mad?" Tim's nerves were still shaken from the experience and his voice sounded high-pitched and a little tinny to his ears.

"Because we could have lost you." And there, right there, Tim could hear the anguish that Tony had been hiding under a thin veneer of anger.

"You had my six," Tim said softly.

"I…" Tony's throat constricted and he was unable to say anything else.

Frustrated and upset he ran his hands through his hair and only then noticed the dried blood splattered on them, could feel the flecks still in his hair. He stared at his hands as his vision blurred and he said, "I need to wash this off."

He went into Tim's bathroom and started to scrub off the dried blood. He kept scrubbing long after the red drops had been washed clean. He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink and saw the small droplets on his cheeks and he bent over the sink to wash his face.

Tim could hear the water running and after a few minutes, he headed towards the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Tony? Tony, what are you doing?" He twisted the knob and it opened easily in his hand.

Tony looked up from the sink, his face dripping, cheeks rubbed red and eyes haunted.

"Tony?" Tim asked worriedly.

"I thought we were going to lose you. I heard the gun and saw the blood and all I could think was… not like Kate."

Understanding came swiftly and Tim rushed to reassure him.

"I'm fine. I'm standing right here."

"You could just as easily not be."

Tim could see the despair in the older agent's eyes before Tony shifted his gaze to stare at something only he could see.

"We used to tease each other all of the time, Kate and I. It was our thing. But I never told her…" Tony swallowed convulsively. "I never told her how I felt. She was my friend and I cared about her, but I never told her."

"She knew." Tim reached out and placed his hand on Tony's neck and let his thumb caress his cheek gently.

Tony looked up and saw the understanding in Tim's eyes. "She knew, Tony," he repeated. "You didn't have to tell her."

They continued to look at one another, Tony's breath heaving as he tried to control his emotions.

Tim released him and turned to get a towel. When he handed it to Tony, the senior agent took it and dried his face.

When he was done, he looked up again, a determined expression on his face.

"She did know. But words are important, too. I should have said them to her and I'm never going to have the chance to anymore. I almost lost that chance today with you.

Tim smiled gently. "I know you care about me, Tony. We're friends and…"

It was Tony's turn to reach out and touch the younger man's face, caress his cheek. He leaned forward, so that their foreheads touched and closed his eyes.

"Let me say the words before I convince myself not to. I care about you. You put up with my crap, you call me on my shit and even though you insult all of my pop culture references, you secretly find them amusing as hell."

Tim laughed softly and nodded.

"You probably know all of this already. But you might not know that I admire you: your brains, your innate kindness, your four out of five ass." Tony paused to take a deep breath.

"And what you definitely don't know is that when you smile at me, really smile at me, it makes my day."

Tony could hear the way Tim's breath caught at the last sentence and he worked up the nerve to pull away slightly so that he could look at Tim's face and into his eyes.

And there it was, that smile, so bright and full. There was no uncertainty in Tim's eye's, only joy and maybe just a bit of wonder.

Tony moved the few inches forward so that their bodies touched, turned his head slightly and gently pressed his lips to Tim's. It wasn't the aggressive, lust-filled kiss he had envisioned that their first kiss would be - it was better.

Tim was the first to pull away and Tony looked at him questioningly.

"Words are important," Tim said. "I never thought I would get the chance to say the ones I'm about to without fear of rejection. You're a good agent. You pretend to be a self-indulgent frat boy that never grew up, although sometimes you don't have to pretend too hard."

Tony snorted.

"But you care about people, genuinely care about them. You put everyone's safety above your own and I know that if you could have traded places with me today you would have done it in a heartbeat."

He moved his head back a little further so that he could look into Tony's green/brown eyes with their hint of gold and said, "Almost every good memory that I have in the last five years involves you. Some of my best ones are because of you."

Tony's whole expression softened as he heard the words and he again bridged the distance between them so that their lips touched. He ran his tongue along Tim's lower lip, silently asking for access and the younger man opened his mouth willingly.

It was a gentle exploration at first. Tony, who had always been a tactile person, used the hand holding Tim's face to angle it further, deepening the kiss. The other pulled them closer and drew small circles on the exposed skin along his lower back.

Tim could feel Tony's growing arousal beside his own and he shifted slightly so that their bodies were aligned. He heard the quiet moan from Tony and marveled that he was the cause of it.

Tony lowered his hand and cupped Tim's ass, kneading it through the worn denim. He rubbed his hardened cock against Tim's growing length and elicited a groan from the younger man, who thrust against him in response.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. Tongues met and danced, hands roamed freely, caressing and touching. Tony bit Tim's lower lip and then sucked gently before he finally pulled away.

Tony stared at Tim's flushed face, kiss-swollen lips and limp eyes, committing it to memory.

Reluctantly and with great regret, he said, "We have to stop."

Tim made a sound of protest and opened his eyes, disappointment evident in them.

Tony reached up and gingerly touched the bandaged knot on Tim's head. "Did you forget about this? No rough play for you tonight."

Tim's already flushed face reddened further as he blushed.

"Come on, you should get changed. Do you want me to order some food?"

Tim glanced at his watch, noted the late hour. He nodded and said, "There are some take out menus by the fridge. I've highlighted the ones I normally order."

"Of course you did, McBoyScout," Tony said as he laughed.

Tim had begun to make his way towards his bedroom when he turned around again. "Are you going to stay?"

"That was the plan," Tony said.

"Good."

Tony stared at Tim, wondering if they'd just had the shortest commitment talk ever, when Tim turned and disappeared into his room.

Tony made his way into the small kitchen and retrieved the menus, flipping through them. He found a place that looked promising and placed their order, modifying Tim's choices slightly to add a couple that he liked.

When he was finished, Tim still hadn't come out of the bedroom so he went to see what was keeping him.

He entered and sucked in a breath. Tim was standing in front of a full-length mirror, shirt off as he examined the bruises on his torso.

At the sound behind him, he looked beyond his reflection to see Tony.

"It's not that bad. The paramedics said I didn't have any broken ribs or anything."

Tony remained silent as he approached Tim.

"You really did fight back."

"I did. He was just…"

"Bigger. Those marines are usually pretty tough."

Tony could not keep his eyes off of the bruises, another quick shock to the system, reminding him how quickly he could have lost Tim. He reached out and ran his hand over the purplish marks, wanting to touch, to feel, to reassure himself that Tim was alive.

Tim shivered at the contact, his body reacting instantly to Tony.

He reached out a hand to halt the movement, when Tony whispered, "Please."

He looked up at Tony's face and saw the need naked in his eyes.

"I want…" Tony couldn't finish his sentence. Instead, he lowered to his knees and placed feather light kisses on Tim's chest, flicking playfully at a nipple until it hardened under his tongue. He laved at it, while his hands undid the button on Tim's pants and slowly lowered the zipper.

Tim watched the progression of Tony's head, his breathing quickening. He turned to the mirror and watched as Tony's head moved down his body, a look of concentration on it as he continued to kiss and nip at the exposed flesh.

Tim let his head fall back as Tony pushed down his jeans and boxer shorts and he stepped out of them. His cock stood erect, its tip glistening with precum. He could feel the warmth of Tony's breath as he hovered above it, his lips inches away.

Tim opened his eyes and watched as Tony's tongue licked his lips slowly, his eyes drifted as they took in his hard length. Tim whimpered at the sight, and Tony looked up to see that Tim was watching him, his eyes dark and full of desire.

He continued to stare up at Tim as he moved his mouth closer, his tongue licking the tip of his cock. He gave a low moan as he tasted Tim for the first time. Unable to look up at Tim any longer, he focused on teasing the head, enjoying the silky texture until finally enclosing it in the tight heat of his mouth.

Tim gave a soft groan of pleasure as he felt Tony swallow the head of his dick and turned again to the mirror. He watched, mesmerized, as Tony slowly took the whole length into his mouth and raised one hand to cup his balls and play gently, while the other rested on his hip.

He saw for a moment Tony's cheeks hollow as he began to suck, when his eyes closed involuntarily. He became lost in the sensation of Tony's mouth moving along his shaft, alternating between pressing his tongue against the thick vein as he moved up and down, and poking his tongue teasingly at the slit as he got to the tip.

He started to thrust unable to reign in the need to push. Tony's hand on his hip guided him, putting pressure when he was going too fast, and urging him on when he slowed down too much.

It wasn't long before he felt the familiar tightening in his belly and he tried to push on Tony's shoulders to let him know to pull off. Instead, Tony continued to suck, using his hand to stroke the base of his cock in time with his mouth.

He came, shouting Tony's name.

Tony slowly raised himself from his position, his knees creaking slightly.

He laughed softly. "Not as young as I used to be, I guess," he said before he ran his hands up the side of Tim's body to rest along his jaw. He leaned in for a kiss, his tongue entering Tim's mouth.

Tim could taste himself on Tony and it made him moan, wanting to know what Tony tasted like. He reached forward to grab at Tony's shirt and pants, desperate to touch.

Tony's stopped him, pulling away.

"Food's going to be here, soon."

Tim made a sound of protest, causing Tony to chuckle.

"I'm right there with you. I am not a fan of delayed gratification. So very much not a fan. But you're supposed to take it easy."

Tony leaned forward and gave Tim a kiss, full of heat and promise. They were both breathless when they heard the knock on the door.

"I'll get the food. You should put some clothes on before I forget all about my good intentions." His gaze swept over Tim's naked form, eyes filled with longing, before he met Tim's eyes again.

"We have time," Tony said tenderly.

Tim saw the look in Tony's eyes, and nodded. He watched Tony leave the room and heard him call a greeting to the delivery person.

He turned back towards his closet and caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. It was flushed, his pupils still wide and dark with lust and his mouth... his mouth was stretched in a full-out smile, happiness beaming out at him from the mirror.

As he opened a drawer to retrieve something to wear he thought, _Tony's right, we have lots of time. This is just the beginning. _

- end -


End file.
